Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
He circles three times, testing the fabric with gentle flexes of his claws, before settling in like he owns it.
“He won’t damage the fabric, don’t worry,” I say, smiling as Pudge begins to purr. My anxiety-prone cat looks more at home here than he has since we left Maine. “He’s very good about things like that. Leave anything halfway edible in the trash, and he’ll find a way to get into it and leave a path of destruction all over the kitchen, but he’s never shredded the furniture.”
“I’m not worried,” Anthony says, glancing Pudge’s way. “It’s just nice to see him so relaxed. Poor guy. That radiator was a nightmare, wasn’t it, buddy?”
Pudge makes a grumbling sound of agreement before closing his eyes, making us both laugh.
“Now, how about we get the people something to help us relax?” Anthony asks, arching a brow. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink after all the excitement.”
I exhale a sigh of relief. “Yes, that sounds good, thank you. I know it was just a car backfiring, but my nervous system is positive we barely avoided violent and certain death.”
Anthony nods seriously. “And the only thing worse than a violent death is a violent and certain one.”
I fight a smile. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Never,” he says, his lips hooking up on one side. “I find you completely charming. Even the fact that your backpack weighs nearly as much as your suitcase intrigues me. What do you have in there? Your entire rock collection?”
“Gold bars,” I riff as he moves into the kitchen. “Gold bars and pirate treasure from off the coast of Maine. I don’t have a local bank in New York, so I figured I’d pay the rest of my deposit on the apartment in gold and jewels.”
He makes a considering sound as he opens one cabinet before closing it and opening another. “Decent plan. But I doubt you’ll get a good exchange rate from the bankers around here. They’re a soulless lot.”
“I think all bankers are.” I run my fingers along a shelf of leather-bound classics on the mantel, recognizing some of my favorites. I grin as I come across a well-loved copy of Pride and Prejudice. “You like Jane Austen?”
“Hmm?” He turns, blinking for a moment before his gaze flicks from my face to the bookshelf and back again. “Oh. Yes. I um…I mean, I haven’t read any fiction for a while, unfortunately, but back in school I burned through all the classics. I read a few grade levels ahead of the rest of my classmates and had a great English teacher who kept me stocked with reading material.”
I amble over to join him in the kitchen as he pulls a bottle of red wine from a storage nook below the cabinets. “Really? You were a book nerd?”
He smiles. “Huge book nerd and teased relentlessly for it. Even the fact that I was good at soccer couldn’t keep the other kids from calling me four eyes.”
My brows lift. “You wore glasses as a kid, too? Mine were an inch thick before I got contacts.”
He shakes his head with a laugh. “No, actually. I’ve never worn glasses.” He shrugs. “But kids, you know. They don’t make a lot of sense. I never understood them. Even when I was one.”
I nod as I lean against the island, watching him work the corkscrew into the top of the wine bottle. “I get that. I mean, I had a few really close friends when I was growing up, but in general, I was always more comfortable with adults than other kids my age.”
“Because you’re smart,” he says.
I shrug. “I mean, yes, I did well in school, but I wasn’t reading a few grade levels ahead of the rest of my class. Sounds like you’re the smartest smarty pants in this room.”
He laughs as he pours the wine, again seeming a little self-conscious, which…I like. Unexpectedly, I find this vulnerable, slightly unsure of himself Anthony as compelling as the confident charmer from the garden earlier tonight. “Well, my grandmother always said a high IQ is only useful if you have the street smarts to know what to do with it.”
I frown. “And you don’t think being a male escort is the best thing you could have done with your high IQ?”
He bites his bottom lip, looking troubled as he places his hands palm-down on the island on either side of the two glasses of wine he’s poured.
Instantly, I know I’ve said the wrong thing.
“I’m sorry,” I hurry to add. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just curious. Personally, I think a male escort is a great thing to be! Any job that helps people and makes you feel like you’re doing good work in the world is wonderful in my book. No judgement here. At all. I mean, I’m so grateful for the time we’ve spent together so far. It’s been…really special.”